Forever
by Vindalootoo
Summary: Shuuichi returns from a concert tour to a nonresponsive answering machine and an empty bed. Chapter five: Epilogue: All the Answers.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fanfiction based on the wonderful story Gravitation by Maki Murakami. She owns the characters and the milieu. I'm only borrowing them so I can give Yuki and Shuuichi an attitudinal cat.

**Summary**: Shuuichi returns from a concert tour to find an unresponsive answering machine and an empty bed.

**Warnings**: Hmmm...Ben-gayness? Fuzziness? Oh...probably you should read my story _Yushu _before reading this as Yuki and Shu and even the story itself are very much predicated on that story, and if you haven't read it, they might seem somewhat OOC. There are also references to stories 2 & 3 and at least one yet to be written chapter of _Cotton Candy Snow_.

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**Forever**

by Vindaloo

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"_We now return to our regular programming."_

Yuki Eiri smiled to himself and tapped the off button on the TV remote, picked up his phone and punched his brother-in-law's quick-dial code.

"_Hai."_ Touma was unusually succinct.

"Go."

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Tired. Sore. Bored.

Yup. That about covered it.

Shindou Shuuichi stared up at the ceiling and counted the insulated ceiling tiles.

One. More. Time.

_If you expect to be able to walk off the stage at the end of your concert tomorrow night, you'll spend the day flat on your back._

Hell, what did doctors know anyway? It was just a little muscle strain.

But Seguchi Touma, president of NG records, was his boss, and when Touma said 'stay in bed,' he stayed, getting out only for prescribed 'therapy' sessions, which meant lying on the floor with little balls tucked under him in the craziest places while he lifted his legs or arms.

Very slowly.

Boring. Boring. Boring.

Fifty-five. Fifty-six. Fifty-

Seriously bored.

Shuuichi sighed and turned gingerly onto his side, propping his knee on a pillow, exactly as the physical therapist had commanded.

It wasn't fair. All the other guys got to go home and sleep in their own beds, while _he _was stuck here, in the special NG boxcar (there was no other word for the hunk of train currently parked in Tokyo) no bed, (well, there was a _bed, _just not _his_ bed) no Yushu, no...

No tall, blond surprisingly cuddly author, who would be ever so much better for his back than the stupid pillow.

Still, no one knew better than he why _that_ reunion had been put off. The cuddling part wouldn't hurt his back, but the rest of the Shuuichi loves Yuki equation would probably cripple him for a week.

What none of them, not his manager, Claude 'K' Winchester, not his best friend Hiro, not Suguru or Sakano or Seguchi Touma seemed to understand was how much, after so long away, he _needed_ to feel those strong arms, _needed_ to taste that beautiful mouth.

Yuki was his touchstone in the unreal world of fannish adoration. Yuki was the one who knew him like no one else. Who knew him, body and soul, waterworks and temper tantrums, and still wanted him.

Or so he was certain when Yuki was near. It was when they were apart for long periods of time that the insidious doubts surfaced and he began to lose faith, seeing not Yuki's 'pint-sized lover' in the mirror, but a skinny, rather funny-looking fellow that no one as beautiful and sexy as Yuki Eiri could possibly be attracted to.

No matter how much his head told him differently, no matter how many times he read the inscription on the picture Yuki had given him to carry in his wallet, the picture from their first date together, the inscription that read: _My baka, my lover, my muse_—_forever..._no matter the words in his head, something inside him went weak and uncertain when he was away this long, something that could only be reassured by the touch of one special person.

He sighed again and shifted back to stare at the ceiling.

If only Yuki would call. He'd called Yuki last night as the train pulled in to tell his lover he was stuck here until after the concert, begging him to come visit...well, he'd begged Yuki's answering machine. Yuki himself was probably deep into one of his stories and ignoring everything...even the date.

The date. A very special date. At least to him. It was the day—

He stopped the thought cold.

It was the final concert date. Nothing more. Well, that and a day to go home.

Home.

Their beautiful home with the perfect view of Tokyo Bay. The home they'd designed and built together and in which he'd only gotten to spend a handful of nights before leaving on this tour.

He and Yuki had barely had time to 'christen' the new bed.

Whatever that meant. Sometimes Yuki used the strangest words.

He sighed again and huddled under the covers, seeking the sleep that should have been so easy, he was that tired following three months on the road—or tracks, in this case—but finding that ultimate escape from boredom all too elusive.

He should have just accepted Sakano's offer of a sleeping pill, but he knew better. He'd have a hard enough time finding the go-juice for this final concert. Take one of those and he'd be out for at least twenty-four hours.

If only Yuki would come tonight. Yuki's presence in the theater always gave him all the energy he needed. But he never _expected_ Yuki to come. Yuki rarely attended concerts, especially Bad Luck concerts. Yuki hated the crowds, especially the clamoring fan girls that hovered outside the halls, _waiting,_ dammit, to ogle the now-famous couple.

Not that they could blame anyone but themselves.

They'd become quite open with their love in the past year, and their fans had gone wild, even to writing weird stories about their sex life and posting those stories on the internet. That was scary, but still kinda cool, especially when Yuki took a fancy to some of the suggestions and decided to 'field test' them, which had made for some pretty wild nights.

Still, he thought, staring dreamily at the ceiling, none of those stories could begin to capture the real magic of being in love with Yuki Eiri. No words could capture how special he felt when those golden eyes singled him out of the dozens or even hundreds of people in a room. No words could describe the shiver that went down his back from the promise in a half-wink or an amused twitch of that generally sober mouth.

A tear trickled from the corner of his eye and into his ear as his own mouth fantasized about Yuki's and the fresh, minty taste of an early morning kiss.

Stupid tear. He had no right to feel sorry for himself. Because of those fans, he and Yuki _could_ cuddle in public, with no more dangerous consequence than a fan asking for an autograph.

A lot of guys weren't that lucky.

Yeah, they _were _lucky. Really lucky. Just look what happened when the tabloids attempted what Yuki called a 'smear campaign,' complete with paparazzi pictures. A general outcry had buried the stories (which were a bunch of lies anyway) and ended the career of the meanie responsible.

Well, he didn't like being the cause of anybody losing their job, but Yuki said the guy was a scandal-chasing hack and had deserved the boot for years, so he supposed it wasn't that awful.

And then there was _that _time in the United States. All he'd wanted was to visit Yuki in the hospital, but the nurses hadn't let him in because he wasn't _family._ The next thing he knew, the whole world seemed to be yelling 'injustice' and 'legal reforms.'

Just for him and Yuki.

On the one hand, he loved the fans for that support. On the other...

On the other, Shuuichi hated the attention, maybe even more than Yuki did, who spent the majority of _his_ life sequestered in his study, avoiding not only the fans, but sometimes Shuuichi, too, when Shuuichi was home. When he was home, he wanted nothing more than to crawl into Yuki's arms and stay there. After five years, that urge was as strong as ever.

But not all the love in the world could counteract the simple fact that Yuki _had_ to write when the words were coming, so Shuuichi _had _to fit himself into the cracks. That was the singlemost basic reality of their life together. Shuuichi accepted that reality, even though, at times like this, it really hurt. A part of him even accepted the realization that the frequent denial of that urge to be with Yuki was no small part of what kept the desire itself so strong.

He couldn't resent the writing, which was as fundamental to the Yuki he loved as the arms he craved, but he could and did resent every private moment stolen from them by the press and fans. He was 'on' every moment he spent outside the haven that was their new home, and more often than not, he had to be 'on' inside as well, if 'on' consisted of behaving counter to his own inclinations.

Not that being on was the least bit foreign to his nature. It _was_ his nature.

It was also exhausting and sometimes he just wanted to be...Shuuichi. A young man who was very much in love, not only with an enigmatic author, but with the whole idea of being in love.

He rolled to his other side, cursed roundly at the twinge of back muscles and buried his face in the pillow he hugged to his chest. If he had to spend this time in bed, he wanted that bed to smell of Yuki, not _him_. He smelled..._normal._ Yuki smelled...special.

One more day. Just one more day. One day. One.

If only Yuki would—

_Thump! _Came from the end of the bed. A familiar weight worked its way up his side. A soothing, low rumble met his ears. A moment later, a slender, hooked appendage pulled delicately at the sheet in front of his nose, pulled it back and golden eyes stared at him.

Round golden eyes surrounded by shining black fur.

"Yushu?" he whispered and with a thrill of hope, lifted the covers and pulled the big cat underneath, hugging him close.

Then he waited.

There was only one way Yushu could be here.

But the much heavier weight he expected on the opposite side of the bed didn't manifest. No warmth happened at his back to match the soft mass under his chin.

He poked his nose above the covers and sought that other pair of amber-colored eyes, the narrow ones that could freeze hell itself, when their owner was in the mood, found them in the shadows near the door, above crossed arms and broad shoulders holding up the wall.

"Yuki?"

"About time, brat."

Gods, he loved that voice. Loving, angry, even disgusted, it sent chills down his spine.

Yuki's lean body twitched, pulling gracefully away from the wall and into the single shaft of sunlight sneaking between the drawn curtains, then back into the shadows, giving Shuuichi only the quickest glimpse of his tight-lipped expression.

A chair scraped across the floor and Yuki folded himself into it, propping his feet on the edge of the bed.

"Did you come to take me home?" Shuuichi asked that shadowed figure, daring to hope.

"What gave you that idea?"

So much for hope.

"You're confined to that bed," the beloved voice continued. "All day. No exceptions. Pain of death. Mine. I brought the damn cat. Been driving me crazy all night. He always knows when you're back in town. Don't ask me how the hell he does."

Cold, detached Yuki had come. Shuuichi bit his lip. Hard. Wishing warm and loving Yuki had come instead.

"Y–your book's not done, then?" He hazarded the obvious.

"What do you think?"

"S–sorry. Guess you'll be going home now, then."

"Got that right."

But Yuki didn't move, didn't even lower his feet to the floor.

Something felt...wrong.

Yushu, as though he felt it too, reached out and patted his nose with one velvet paw. Shuuichi blinked and pressed his face into the cat's soft belly fur.

"T–thanks for bringing him." He thought he should say something...had to say...something. Anything. "W–will I see you later then?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

He wondered what that was supposed to mean, felt his chest tighten and buried his face against the furry ball weighing down his arm.

"I missed you."

"Like, that's news?"

He bit his lip, fighting the tears that somehow threatened. He wanted Yuki's arms around him, Yuki's rich voice telling him _welcome home_. Some small indication that Yuki had missed him one billionth of what he'd missed Yuki.

But there was no such admission. Yuki stayed there in that chair, radiating anger and frustration. Boredom. But he didn't leave, which meant Yuki had something he wanted to say and suddenly, Shuuichi thought he knew what that something must be. His breath caught, the sobs deep within fought to escape and he angrily fought them back.

Yuki hated it when he cried.

"Just say it, Yuki," he whispered.

"Huh?"

"S–say it and go. _Please."_

"What the hell are you babbling about?"

He winced. "Who is it, Yuki? Do I know her? Or...is it another g–guy?" He didn't want to hear that. He thought, maybe, he could handle being dumped for a woman—maybe—but Yuki and him ...that had been special. Unique. For both of them.

Or so Yuki had always insisted, even before Yuki admitted Shuuichi was more than simply a convenient fuck.

Unique. Special.

And so he'd believed. Yushu had happened. Eiri had quit smoking, had worked out all those _issues_. They'd built their house together. Yuki had been teaching him to skate. They'd been _happy_. Or so he'd thought.

So he'd hoped.

Silence. Which meant he was right: Yuki had found someone else. He squeezed his eyes shut on the tears flooding him. Every time Bad Luck went on tour, it was like coming home to a stranger. There was always this period of getting their lives back into synch with one another.

He was always a bit depressed, coming off the months-long adrenaline rush of touring. He'd find himself fearing coming home, fearing what he'd be coming home _to, _fearing...what had finally happened.

Yuki had moved on. He just didn't need him any longer.

"I wondered why they didn't let me go home. Why you didn't c–call. It's because I d–don't have a home anymore, isn't it, Yuki? You brought Yushu here as some sort of...what? Consolation prize?" He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. "Please, Yuki, just leave. It...it's OK. I've...been expecting it for a long..."

Except he hadn't been expecting it. Not this time. He'd thought..._my muse_—_forever._

He burrowed in under the covers and held his breath, determined not to plead, not to cry, not to do any of those things Yuki hated and that made _him _feel, in retrospect, like something cheap and cowardly, tried not to panic as the weight of Yuki's feet left the bed and the door to the car opened.

"All right, you American maniac. Take your shiny guns and bullets and _fuck the hell off._"

The door slammed, and before he had time to process, the mattress at his back sank, rolling him back into a warm, and oh-so-welcoming pair of arms.

TBC

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**A/N:** This will be a short, two or three parter. Next up, Yuki 'n' Shu in bed, though surprisingly little citrus involved. Shu's back, doncha know.

As always, please read and enjoy, review if you have time. Critical comments are appreciated and taken seriously. Flames only ignite the flamer. :D---Vin


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fanfiction based on the wonderful story Gravitation by Maki Murakami. She owns the characters and the milieu. I'm only borrowing them so I can give Yuki and Shuuichi an attitudinal cat.

**IMPORTANT NEW A/N:** It has been politely brought to my attention (you know who you are and thank you!) that I have unwittingly impugned the honor of Dallas Area Hospitals with the underlying premise of this story. The individual who pointed this out lives in the Dallas area and says the situation I describe is highly unlikely, that the city, (including the hospitals,) is actually very gay-friendly. While I'm sure every hospital has their card-carrying rule-book-Nazis who will follow the Federal Privacy Act over a cliff, I do extend my humble apologies to all the hard-working and sensible hospital personnel throughout the nation. I've revised the salient paragraph in this chapter to reflect a more accurate, though locationally less specific, reference to Yuki's hospitalization. It was only ever intended as a plot device.

**Summary**: Shuuichi returns from a concert tour to find an unresponsive answering machine and an empty bed.

**Warnings**: Hmmm...Ben-gayness? Fuzziness? Oh...probably you should read my story _Yushu _before reading this as Yuki and Shu and even the story itself are very much predicated on that story, and if you haven't read it, they might seem somewhat OOC. There are also references to stories 2 & 3 (and at least one yet to be written chapter) of _Cotton Candy Snow_.

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**Forever  
**by Vindaloo  
Chapter Two: A Kiss of Menthol  
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If there was anything more intoxicating than a damp-eyed, runny-nosed, pink-haired fluff ball pressed into your chest, Yuki Eiri hadn't a clue what it might be.

He had to wonder what it would take to make his uniquely precious fluff ball realize that simple truth, wondered what it would take for Shuuichi to get it through his thick skull that Yuki Eiri loved— make that _adored _him beyond all reason.

Hard to believe Shu could still harbor doubts, but realistically, he probably always would, at least at times like this. It was the downside of the adrenaline rush that made his performances so magical. He gave and gave until there was nothing left in him. The audiences returned the love and recharged his battery, but never quite back to full. He lost a bit every night when he was on the road. It was as if he knew exactly how much he had and doled it out so that when he got home, there was nothing left and it was only Eiri and Eiri's love that could restore it to full capacity.

The depression, the doubts, that was the need talking, not anything real, but no one knew better than Yuki Eiri how real such chemically-induced doubts could seem.

He pressed his lips to the pink head and smoothed the tangles back from the damp cheeks. Shuuichi continued to whimper, tears he'd been holding back for hours, if not days. It wasn't unusual, after their initial exuberant reunion, for Shu to dissolve into unexpected tears, sometimes for several days following a tour.

The first time it happened, after Bad Luck's first tour, those tears had startled and frustrated Eiri, because they hadn't made sense and he'd felt helpless. Now, he knew there _was _nothing he could do, nothing he could say, except hold the exhausted young rock star until the flood ended.

Shuuichi needed, quite literally, to _feel_ the love. Yuki's love.

He should have called last night, but it had been very late by the time he'd gotten home from his business dinner with his visiting American agent, and he hadn't wanted to disturb the chemically-induced sleep Touma had promised Shuuichi would get.

Unfortunately, from the tired droop of his little lover's eyelids, he was guessing Shuuichi had refused that sleep aid and stayed up all night waiting for Eiri to call back.

Dammit.

"They threatened my life and body parts if I disturbed you, Shu," he murmured into the pink mop. "All I could think was to bring the damned cat. I got him in the first place to keep you entertained, now didn't I? Figured you had to be going bug-fuck confined to your bed."

A wet chuckle rewarded him. "Not really. I'm really tired, Yuki. And my back really does hurt. I don't know how I'll make it through the concert tonight. But all I wanted was..."

The soft voice faded away, embarrassed, as Shuuichi always was at what he perceived as a weakness. Under normal circumstances, he'd cry at the drop of a hat for no reason, and laugh at himself afterward, but these tears were...different. Shuuichi didn't understand them, but they felt real, and so they frightened and embarrassed him. Eiri hugged his pink fluff ball, got a raspy lick and paw on his hand from the black fluff ball on the far side.

"I know. I was an ass just now. I just...dammit, all _I_ wanted was to crawl in and fuck hell out of you, which wasn't, and still is not, an option. If I'd tried—"

A giggle, a very welcome giggle vibrated the ribs sandwiched between his arms. "K would've come in with guns blazing."

"Precisely. Didn't want my fuck-buddy caught in the crossfire, now did I?"

"_Yuki!"_

He laughed and hugged Shuuichi tight, pulled back in concern as a pained gasp escaped his pint-sized partner.

"Shu?" He eased Shu onto his back and propped himself on an elbow to look down at him. "You really _are_ hurt!"

"Uh...yeah."

"What did you do?"

Shuuichi shrugged. And winced. Yushu crawled half-way over Shu's arm, resting his upper body heavily on Shu's chest, purring loudly. Shuuichi bit his lip, fighting back tears. Tears of pain. Shu would never reject the cat's wanton advances, and so Yuki took the initiative and gently pushed the cat off.

Yushu stood up and stretched, his tail pulled into a quivering question mark, glaring at Eiri.

"Sorry, Yushu," Shuuichi whispered, running the back of one hand listlessly over the furry back, and the black head turned away from Eiri to exchange a very different stare with Shuuichi. Evidently some message was passed because with a final cautionary glance at Eiri over Shuuichi's head, Yushu jumped off the bed, temporarily entrusting their mutual love to his human rival.

Eiri'd gotten the cat to keep Shuuichi company when his writing held him hostage in his study, and it had been love at first nip, though a love in some ways as painfully negotiated as Eiri's and Shu's had been.

Normally Yushu...tolerated Eiri...for Shu's sake. Sure, when Shu was gone, Eiri and the cat bonded in mutual loneliness, listening to Shu's music as Eiri worked and sharing the Shuuichi-scented pillow at night, but once Shu was back home, the truce was lifted and the on-going tug-of-war resumed. Still, there were times even Yushu admitted Shuuichi needed Eiri most.

Like now.

Eiri ran soothing hands over the slim body. Shu was wearing only his boxers and one of those too-large, scoop-necked, sleeveless tees which had the most delicious tendency to fall off one shoulder.

A shoulder just a touch too thin, to Eiri's way of thinking. Shu always lost weight on tour and this time was particularly bad. Good thing he'd restocked the refrigerator that afternoon. He'd be cooking his tail off for at least a week, plumping his boy back into health.

But for now, he had a different kind of therapy in mind.

He cupped the smooth face between his palms and brushed his lips lightly across Shuuichi's, before moving his hands lower, coming up beneath the loose t-shirt, easing the fabric upward.

"Yuki, . . ." Shu's protest was a whisper against his lips.

"Sh-sh-sh." He pulled the shirt off, kissing the exposed belly. "Turn over."

"Yuki."

He didn't repeat himself, just pushed and pulled—gently—until Shuuichi was flat on his belly, his head resting on crossed arms. Not resisting, but not doing much to help either.

Damn, he'd never seen the brat so listless.

Yuki reached for the coat he'd thrown into the chair, pulled out the tube he'd tucked into the pocket almost as an afterthought before heading out the door. Without comment, he eased Shu's boxers down below his hips, and popped the lid off the tube, squeezing a healthy dollop out into his palm.

"_Yuki! I can't—"_

"Baka," he chided softly, warming the cream between his hands, and, ignoring the smothered sobs, he slid the mentholated cream across the small of Shuuichi's back, smearing it upward toward the bony shoulder blades, over the shoulders and down the arms.

A gasp, followed quickly by a sigh of relief as Yuki proceeded to kneed the tight muscles, gently at first then taking the massage deeper, as the muscles relaxed beneath his fingertips, easing the aches and pains as surely as if they were his own.

NG had a full medical staff. Whatever he'd done, Shuuichi had been tended by an excellent chiropractor, a better acupuncturist...had probably even had a therapeutic massage—several, most likely—but Yuki knew damned good and well that noone, _no one_ could ease the brat's bodily ills as well as he could. He rarely bothered, making certain that when he did, his own personal idiot took proper note of the gift.

And from the soft gurgle escaping the pillow, his personal idiot was taking a shitload of notes, and Yuki could look forward to some serious appreciation, once his darling little 'fuck-buddy' was back in form.

He warmed another handful of ointment and concentrated on the lower back. Shuuichi lacked all common sense when he was on stage—well, he lacked common sense, period, but on stage, he was positively obsessed. Choreographed moves provided only the structure of his performance: his mood provided the heart and soul.

And Shuuichi's moods were rarely subdued.

"Yuki?" Soft, hesitant.

"Yeah?"

"I wish...I wish it could be real."

"What's that?"

"Us." Shu twisted around, his skin sliding smoothly between Yuki's slimy fingertips. His slender hands lifted to caress Yuki's cheek, the chewed fingernails rough, despite his manicurist's efforts. "I wish...I wish I really _could _be something... more than your fuck-b—"

He stopped that thought with a kiss. It was hardly the first time something of the sort had come up between them. Shuuichi had never had a political bent, but his heartfelt lament on the legal status of their relationship had provided fodder for the tabloids and legitimate newspapers for over two years.

Ever since Bad Luck's first American tour and an accident in some small southern town that had damned near killed Eiri. He and Shu had been following the bus in a separate car and a drunk driver had run a red light, hitting them squarely in the driver's side. He'd been taken to the emergency room of some elitist little hospital and the staff had thrown Shuuichi out, claiming he wasn't 'family.'

Oh, hadn't _that _gone over well?

The hospital had revised their stand quickly enough (once the international media got hold of the story), their apologies had been loud and profuse—almost as loud and profuse as Shuuichi's complaints—but the seed had been planted, and Shuuichi's fans had begun a sometimes noisy, sometimes very canny movement to make certain such a trauma never again darkened their pink-haired god's life.

But Japan was as conservative as countries came, and for years those heartfelt efforts had failed to make a dent in the political system. Himself...if it were ever Shu in that hospital bed and himself on the far side of the door, he pitied the nurse, doctor, or cannon that dared to stand between them.

He released Shu's mouth with a tiny nip to the lower lip and after restoring Shuuichi's minimal clothing, rolled down beside his now very smelly, pink-haired idiot. Tucking him up close, he whispered, "Go to sleep, fuck-buddy."

A sleepy raspberry in his ear ensured that sleep, for one blond-haired fuck-buddy, would be a very long time arriving.

TBC

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**Next up: **The concert.

**Reviews: **Many thanks to everyone who reviewed! I'm so glad you're enjoying it. As you can see, fluffiness is indeed the soup d'jour. (Sp?)

As always, please R&R, but mostly, enjoy!—Vin


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fanfiction based on the wonderful story Gravitation by Maki Murakami. She owns the characters and the milieu. I'm only borrowing them so I can give Yuki and Shuuichi an attitudinal cat.

**Summary**: A concert, a question, and an answer.

**Warnings**: Hmmm...Ben-gayness? Fuzziness? Oh...probably you should read my story _Yushu _before reading this as Yuki and Shu and even the story itself are very much predicated on that story, and if you haven't read it, they might seem somewhat OOC. There are also references to stories 2 & 3 and at least one yet to be written chapter of _Cotton Candy Snow_.

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**Forever  
**by Vindaloo  
A Concert and a Question  
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Yuki was gone when Shuuichi woke up to Hiro's pounding on the door. So was Yushu. If it weren't for the smell of menthol still permeating the room, he'd have been convinced it was all a dream.

A very..._wonderful_...

"Shuuichi! Dammit, man, wake up!"

He yawned, rolled off the bed and opened the door. "Hi, Hiro."

"Whew!" Hiro waved a hand in front of his face as if warding off a king-sized fart. "Yuki made it past K, then?"

He smiled, remembering the dream. "Yeah."

"So?" Hiro lifted a narrow brow...

Shuuichi stretched, discovering that Yuki's fingers had indeed worked their magic.

"Fit as the proverbial guitar."

...And rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Yuki's right, you _are_ an idiot."

Shuuichi stuck out his tongue and ducked back into the railcar.

Propped on the bedside table was a note from Yuki:

_Sorry, brat._

_Proofs. _

_FedEx tomorrow AM._

_Damned copy editors created a fucking mess._

_Have your choice: me at the concert or me in bed._

_Hmmm...scratch that. No choice._

_See you tonight. After the concert._

_Your favorite f-b,_

_Yuki_

_PS: Don't forget your lyrics._

_PPS: Don't fall off the stage._

_PPPS: Keep that backside warm._

Shuuichi smiled and pressed the note with his lips, then tucked the paper carefully into the drawing tablet in his backpack. K would see that precious backpack got home along with his other luggage, where that note would join the growing stack in a box in his closet.

He didn't keep much, but he kept all Yuki's notes.

He headed for the shower, poking the CD remote control as he passed. The special instrumentals-only version of Bad Luck's most recent album filled the car, front to back, and the pounding rhythms, the intricate electronic harmonies and Hiro's exquisite guitar riffs fed his soul, sending him into that rarified atmosphere where it was just him and the music.

Who needed drugs when you had...this?

✴

The spiritual high lasted through the concert. It went well, but that was only to be expected. It was, after all, basically a night with several hundred of his closest friends.

Zep Tokyo was always the perfect venue, the tickets sold out before they ever officially went on sale. The small club took them back to their roots, kept them grounded. They began and ended every tour there. It had become a tradition—at his request—and Shuuichi loved it. It was their sendoff and their welcome home.

His parents always came to these intimate concerts, as though to reassure themselves of their son's survival of yet another tour, and they, along with his sister Maiko and Eiri's brother Tatsuha, made a special little cheering section up in the front-row balcony seats.

And sometimes, usually without warning, a blond head showed up at the back. Beside the door. _His_ spot. A spot where no fan—ever—bothered him. Not Shuuichi's doing, that space, and not Yuki's. At Zep Tokyo, the fans just seemed to know.

But no expensively-messy blond head appeared tonight; no surprise there. Yuki had played hooky coming to see him that afternoon. He'd needed to work, had page proofs in house that _had_ to go out. Some deadlines could be ignored. Page proofs, complete with copy-editing fiascos couldn't: Yuki met the deadline, or those fiascos made it into print.

Shuuichi had seen that happen once; he never wanted to see it again.

And given a choice, he'd take that stolen afternoon, and, yes, Yuki in bed tonight.

He just wished, this time, he hadn't had to make a choice. He sang his heart out, gave the hungry crowd the last erg of energy he could muster...

And damned near collapsed on stage. Only the feedback from that hungry crowd kept him on his feet at the last. Whatever Hiro and Suguru played, he sang. He didn't even have to think any longer. Fortunately, Hiro knew him well enough to make the encores upbeat, for all it had become another tradition to close with _In the Moonlight._ Tonight, he thought as he took his final bow, calling out over the roar of the audience _WeloveyouTokyo!_, tonight, he'd have fallen asleep in the middle of the second verse.

He gathered his quivering legs, preparing for his dash off the stage.

Suddenly, over the speakers: _"Didn't you forget something, brat?_"

Yuki?

He froze, center stage, the mic hanging forgotten in his hand, searching for the source of that rich voice.

"_Hiro, save the mic, will you? The baka's going to drop it."_

But there was no sign of that blond head anywhere.

"Eiri, . . . wha . . ."

He felt the mic slip free, made an instinctive save, only to have Hiro's chuckling voice reassure him.

"_Obviously, _my_ song is going to have to await a more . . . personal rendition." _Laughter edged Yuki's voice, and an answering chuckle rippled through the curiously silent audience, as that handful who hadn't recognized the voice finally figured out to whom it belonged.

"_As you all know—hell, it's been publicized enough—five years ago to the day, a whirlwind entered my life."_

So...he _had_ remembered their rather odd little anniversary.

"Eiri, what the hell..." He looked frantically into every shadow of the room, but all he saw were his bandmates, Hiro and Suguru; K, Sakano, and the entire stage crew inching out of the wings, and...good gods, that was Mika and Touma... and...

"Sakuma-san?"

Ryuichi, in his most comfortable, mentor mode, smiled reassuringly.

"_I was walking in the park, minding my own damned business, when this crumpled piece of paper flew into my face."_

Shuuichi snorted, muttered, "Hell, if. You _stepped_ on it, you bastard."

A chuckle. _"Yeah, brat, I did, didn't I? Stepped all over the lyrics and their wide-eyed, idiot author."_

How did he . . .? He'd had no mic. He'd muttered at his feet. Yuki _had_ to be close. _Very_ close. He edged toward the front of the stage, glanced down into the pit. Nothing. His heart raced and he chewed his lip, wondering what the hell he'd been set up for this time.

"_Where was I . . . oh, yeah. The whirlwind. A lively little tornado with the voice of an angel, known to the world now as Shu-chan. At the time, he was nobody. Obviously, I made him what he is today."_

Protests flared noisily and Yuki's amplified laugh rose over the crowd's objections.

"_And he made me what I am."_

The crowd was instantly silent at that quiet, sincere declaration, and from the shadows behind Hiro, the tall, blond-haired figure he'd been searching for finally emerged.

Shuuichi stared at him, horrified, certain he was about to be mortified... somehow... frozen to the spot, unable to run, even if the bodies increasingly filling the stage hadn't made escape impossible.

"_Shindou Shuuichi_," For all Yuki was right there, that beautiful voice echoed through the hall, sending shivers down his spine. _"Words do not exist to express the debt I owe you."_

Alarms blared in his head. Yuki didn't, absolutely did _not_ talk like this. Not in private, _certainly_ not in public. Something awful was about to...but Yuki's golden cat-eyes caught and held his, holding him captive as they had been able to do since that first life-changing glance five years ago, practically to the moment.

"Your smile, your laughter, your energy, the utterly pure and all-encompassing love you exude from your very pores has changed my life." For all Yuki's voice still echoed through the speakers courtesy of a cordless head-mic, all Shuuichi heard now was the pure, unamplified original.

"A part of me—a very selfish part—wishes that I alone could make that claim, but the truth is, there's not a person in this building who has remained untouched by the essence of Shuuichi." A secret smile twitched that beautiful mouth below the captivating eyes. "Fortunately for me, the mortgage is in _our_ names alone."

Mortgage? The house? What was he talking about? Shuuichi's head whirled with questions. The entire day had been surreal and this moment the most unbelievable of all. What the hell was going—

Warmth enveloped his hands: Yuki's long fingers surrounding him, solid reassurance in a world gone tipsy. Without blinking, giving him no chance to escape that golden stare, Yuki lifted those limp appendages attached to his wrists. As if they were alone, Yuki kissed each cold digit, deliberately and singly, sucking the last surreptitiously into his mouth for a quick tongue-fuck before folding their clasped hands to his chest.

"You saved me, Shu. You took a self-centered, screwed up, more dead than alive bastard and you resurrected him into something approaching a human being." Yuki's hold on his hands shifted, Shuuichi's right hand fell free as Yuki reached into his pocket...

...and sank onto one knee.

Shuuichi gasped, suddenly very, _very_, light-headed.

"Shindou Shuuichi, with all these people as witnesses, I'm admitting—" A hard swallow broke smooth, easy flow of words at last, and Yuki's head dropped, as he pressed Shuuichi's hand to his forehead.

Yuki's shoulders were shaking.

Concern for the man he loved flared past the numbness in his brain. "Yuki?" he whispered, and set his free hand on that golden head. The golden head lifted and he saw it was laughter that caused that tremor.

"Oh, fuck it. Prepared speeches are for politicians. Shu-chan, I love—hell, I _adore _you. I cannot, _will_ not live without you." A single flick of Yuki's long thumb and the small velvet box in his palm popped open, its interior sparkling brighter than Ryuichi with a mic in his hand. "Will you marry me, you damn brat?"

The auditorium erupted with cheers and laughter and applause and a whole host of other noise that became just so much cacophony in Shuuichi's ears. He stared at Yuki, at that ring, then out across that writhing sea of humanity.

As anger and resentment filled his heart.

TBC

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

**A/N: **I know, I'm evil. I'll be posting the next chapter tomorrow, but I wanted to go over it a little more first.

**Reviews: **Thanks again to everyone and sorry about the chapter mixup over on Gurabiteshiyon. Serious late night stupidity. Plus...turns out I'm coming down with the flu. Oh, joy. Just got anti-viral pills. Hope that keeps the worst symptoms at bay. Anyway, if I post something really weird, you'll know I'm hallucinating. :D:D:D Scull vs skull: ARGH! Thank you **headcase** for pointing it out and to **Madison **for the info on how to update on ffnet. I was afraid that was the only way. I have to play with the files after uploading to make them read correctly. Actually, hadn't done those paragraphing changes on this file anyway, so not too bad. Hope I remembered to record the other edits I did live before posting.

I'm such an idiot!

**Vera**, not to worry! The whole idea of viewpoint is to get you identifying with and so as worried as Shu! It's just really unkind of me to make you wait a couple of days for the answer. OTOH, responses to scenes help me tweak follow up ones to make sure I answer all the questions raised, hence the value of reviewing, all you lovely (silent) readers. :D

**Later:** Hey, folks, I'm seriously diseased. We're talking down for the count for a while. I'm going to go ahead and post the last two segments together, though I might need to go in and update them when I've got a brain again and my hands stop shaking. (This flu is nothing to joke with this year. Yuck.) Anyway... Just warning you.

Please R&R—Vin


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fanfiction based on the wonderful story Gravitation by Maki Murakami. She owns the characters and the milieu. I'm only borrowing them so I can give Yuki and Shuuichi an attitudinal cat.

**Summary**: A concert, a question, and an answer.

**Warnings**: Hmmm...Ben-gayness? Fuzziness? Oh...probably you should read my story _Yushu _before reading this as Yuki and Shu and even the story itself are very much predicated on that story, and if you haven't read it, they might seem somewhat OOC. There are also references to stories 2 & 3 and at least one yet to be written chapter of _Cotton Candy Snow_.

**A/N:** Hiya, folks. I'm posting this chapter along with four because I don't know when I'll be able to post again and _Concert _has a terrible cliffhanger ending. I've come down with the flu and it's pretty bad. Temperature way too high and hands shaking so it's hard to type. Gotta hunker down and take my meds which will probably make me dumber than dirt, so...Here you are: Please be aware, both the chapters might be edited in the future as I'm still dubious about certain transitions.

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴  
**Forever  
**by Vindaloo  
Chapter 5: An Answer  
✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

So far, the magical moment . . . wasn't.

A sudden fear gripped Yuki's heart as that brilliant gaze slid past him and out across the hall, staring without seeing.

"Shu?" he whispered, and Shuuichi's eyes shifted back to him, filling with tears.

Well, _that_ he expected. But somehow, they didn't look like tears of joy.

Suddenly, Shuuichi gave a wordless cry and ripped free, darting across the stage, escape in every trembling line. But Hiro was there, and Hiro grasped him, laughing, held him steady for Yuki, who stumbled gracelessly after him.

"Shuuichi, what is it?" Yuki wrapped his arm around Shu's trembling shoulders. Damn it all, could he never do anything right? The public humiliation, the (dammitall _yes_ prepared—_painfully_) speech, the whole going down on one knee thing...and still, somehow, he'd hurt the one person he loved most in the universe.

Where had he gone wrong?

"How—could—you?" The words exploded on a series of damp gasps, and Shu wrenched free, stumbled and went down to his knees.

A part of him longed to scream, to object to the world at large, to demand what in hell he'd done to deserve this response.

Another part knew there was something very real behind Shuuichi's pain. He just wished he knew what.

"Here—in front of all of them—How could you? You think we're all idiots? Do you think _I_ am? Dammit, Yuki Eiri, you...you know what that ring means to me. But it means nothing—_nothing—_to the world! I don't need a fucking ring to belong to you, Yuki. I don't need a damned rehearsed declaration of undying love extracted from one of your books! Rings and declarations won't get me into that hospital room, will they?"

Suddenly, he realized the heart of the problem. "Shu,...don't you know? Haven't you heard?"

"Heard _what?_" It was as close to a snarl as Shindou Shuuichi could manage.

Suddenly, the diamond screen at the back of the stage, which til then had been filled with their faces, flared with static, and the image shifted, Shuuichi's familiar features being replaced with a face nearly as well-known—at least to the handful in the audience of voting age.

The Prime Minister.

It was a newscast. One of those 'special interruptions.' The timing wasn't coincidental. He'd known when this announcement was supposed to happen—it had been timed for maximum political and promotional effect, an arrangement between Touma and the Prime Minister.

He'd just assumed Shuuichi knew as well.

Obviously, he'd assumed wrong. He should have known better: he always had to catch the brat up on current events when he came off a tour. Not that Shuuichi had ever cared. Shuuichi listened and absorbed...because Yuki had offered.

Five years. You'd think he'd have learned.

He pulled Shuuichi to his feet, turned him to face the screen, wrapping his arms around his idiot lover to make sure he didn't bolt again, and whispered into his ear: "Just shut up and watch, baka."

The Prime Minister was in his office, calligraphy-brush ostentatiously in hand, spouting a great deal of political nonsense, ending with:

"_And so it is with great pleasure that I sign this bill, popularly known as the Yushu Decree, officially extending the definition of a legal marriage in Japan to include partnerships of the same gender."_

With a flourish, the PM signed the scroll.

Yuki grunted in disgust. Such a production.

Behind him, a roar exploded from the audience, drowning out the newscasters' banal commentary regarding the history of the bill and the famous couple who'd inspired it, one of whom had just returned from a highly successful, much publicized tour.

For the benefit of the handful of people in Japan who hadn't been watching his publicized proposal.

"It had to be done this way, brat," he whispered into that pink hair beneath the noise from the crowd. "They, those loving fans of yours, deserved to be part of it, since they made it possible."

No matter he'd wished otherwise.

Beneath his arms, Shuuichi's chest heaved as the midget fought for breath. One heave, two, and the brat twisted around to grip Yuki's jacket lapels.

"Is it true?"

Suddenly, in the light of those brilliant eyes, it no longer mattered where or how. Not to him, and not to Shuuichi. Eiri laughed and nodded.

"Really, _really _true?"

"Really, really."

"Really, really, _really?"_

He popped the idiot on his pink head and asked: "Well?"

In the next instant, he found himself being pulled to the front of the stage, his hand held captive in a tight, two handed grip. At the very edge of the stage, Shu's hands shifted to his shoulders, pulled and pushed him back down onto both knees. A frantic, scrambling search ended as the velvet box (which had gone flying when he'd staggered after the escaping idiot) floated back to the stage on a sea of fannish hands.

Shuuichi, flat on his stomach, hanging off the edge of the stage, kissed everything in reach before rearing back (wouldn't that just do wonders for his strained back?) and up onto his knees. He pressed the box into Yuki's hand, and jumped to his feet, holding out his left hand like the queen of England presenting her hand for a kiss.

Jumping up and down, dancing in place, eyes gleaming maniacally, he...babbled, there was really no other word for it: "Ask me again, ask me again, ask me—"

Yuki rolled his eyes, but obediently hauled himself up to the appropriate stance, grabbed the bobbing hand, and jerked several times to shut the idiot up. "All right, moron, all right. Shindou Shuuichi, love of my life—" and covering the mic: "And the world's best fuck-buddy." He took his hand off the mic. "Will you—"

"Hai!"

The mic went flying. He found himself flat on his back, the world's best fuck-buddy sprawled across him, arms wrapped around his neck. "Haihaihaihaihaihaihai—"

"Shit, I get the picture."

He pushed up, Shuuichi arms still wrapped around his neck, and as he rolled to his knees, Shuuichi legs clamped around his waist. Hands gripped him, helped him to his feet, as Shuuichi's mantra rang in his ears. "Shuuichi is Eiri's forever and ever and ever and ever—"

With the octopus entangling him, Yuki leaned toward the hand-mic Hiro held out to him.

"Forever and ever and ever and ever—"

"Thank you, all of you—"

"Forever and ever and ever and ever—"

"For making this possible."

"Forever and ever and ever and—"

"If you don't mind—"

"Forever and ever and ever and ever—"

"I'm going to go home and put my idiot to bed."

"Forever and ever and ever and—"

FIN

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

**Next Stop:** This story spawned an epilogue as I was writing _Yushu._ So there will actually be one more chapter, but it's only half-written, so gotta wait for those neurons to come back online.

**A/N1:** Minimal research alert! I make no pretense of knowing Japanese law or legal procedures other than a cursory internet search which turned up very little. It's completely possible that I'm warping them to my own purposes, but it's a small enough twist for story purposes. Suggestions for verisimilitude will be greatly appreciated.

**A/N2: **Some of you will likely object, and with some justification, to the use of "Hai" rather than "Yes." The rest of the dialogue is translated after all, so why shift in this one case? My reason for choosing the Japanese term over the English is simple: I like the sound in this instance. Shu is hyperventilating with happiness and the breathy "Hai" just expressed that perfectly.

As always, thanks for reading, please review if you have time. Constructive criticism will be taken seriously. —Vin


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fanfiction based on the wonderful story Gravitation by Maki Murakami. She owns the characters and the milieu. I'm only borrowing them so I can give Yuki and Shuuichi an attitudinal cat.

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴  
**Forever  
**by Vindaloo  
Epilogue: All the Answers  
✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

The post-concert engagement party died early, a tacit acknowledgment to the guests of honors' desire to be alone on this special night. The invited guests, 'family' all, bade the host a quiet farewell, begging him to remain on the couch, careful not to disturb the small figure snoring softly in his lap.

Hiroshi was the last to leave.

He knelt beside the couch and bent to kiss Shuuichi's temple. "Congratulations, buddy," he whispered. And looking up at Eiri, "You're a lucky man, Yuki Eiri."

Those dark grey eyes held nothing of jealousy, though there was, perhaps, a hint of sadness. An era was coming to an end for the lifelong best friends. Hiro knew it, even if Shuuichi hadn't yet realized it.

"This would never have happened without you," Eiri answered softly. Long before the fans who changed a law, there'd been Hiro. Hiro's unwavering support and gently wise counsel had kept Shuuichi sane, even before Eiri had entered the picture. After, well, Shu hadn't been the only one who'd benefitted. During Eiri's time in rehab, Hiro had been his only touchstone to the life he wanted so desperately to achieve.

And now, thanks to one small question, Hiro was about to be alone in a way he'd never been in his adult life.

Ayaka hadn't worked out. Neither had the several other girlfriends Hiro had cultivated over the five years he'd known him. They all seemed to realize Hiro's heart lay...elsewhere, that there was more truth in those long established games of sexual innuendo between the two old friends than either had ever admitted.

More, at least, for Hiro.

"Do you resent me?" he asked softly, and to Hiro's rather surprised look: "You've every right to, you know."

Hiro gentle smile surfaced. "No, Yuki-san, and that's the truth."

"I'm not at all certain the best man won."

The smile faded. "There was never a war. —I'm honestly happy. For both of you. I...could never be for him what you are."

"And I could never replace you." Eiri fingercombed the pink strands away from the sleeping face. "Needy little bastard, isn't he?"

"Not surprising, considering how much he gives."

"Yeah."

Silence, then, companionable and thoughtful, as they both stared at the oblivious little love-sponge.

"This doesn't really change anything, not between us," Hiro remarked, still in that low voice. "He was always yours, from the day you met. It just means one very big worry is gone from his life. It terrified him, you know. Those nurses keeping him out of that room scared him more than Aizawa's attack ever did."

Eiri stared at the sweetly sleeping face, recalling a devastating sense emptiness, and an earthly angel's song lifting him out of a bottomless pit. "I'd have died without his voice to call me back."

"And he'd have followed you."

"He'd _never _commit suicide."

"His spirit wouldn't have the choice."

"Neither would mine, without him." Eiri realized, aloud.

"There's your answer, then." Hiro storm-grey eyes left Shuuichi's face at last to meet Eiri's. "I never thought you had it in you."

"What? To ask him to marry me?"

"To do it so publicly. Tell me, was that your idea? Or K's? Touma's?"

"Mine. Well, the media hype and the PM's overtime pay...that was Touma's."

"Yours, huh? That...surprises me. It seems so..."

"Out of character?"

Hiro nodded.

"It was the _only _way I could be sure I'd do it right. I'm...not the most romantical of people, Hiroshi. Oh, I write that crap all the time, but doing it—that's something else. Having a script to follow, an inescapable time and place...was the only way I could think of to make certain it was special. The way he deserves. If I'd opted to do it in private, I'd've carried that damned ring around for a month, waiting for a right moment that conveniently never came, then I'd've tried to plan something and had too much time to think about how dumb I was going to look and chickened out at the last moment. Eventually, I'd've thrown the ring at him and told him we were getting married tomorrow."

Hiro smiled gently, his eyes returning his best friend. "And he'd've said, how 'bout tonight."

Eiri chuckled softly. "You're probably right."

"He wouldn't care how you did it, Eiri-san. Just the fact that you asked him, rather than the other way around, that was enough."

Which only confirmed his own suspicions. Asking tonight had been, more than anything else, a preemptive strike. Because Shuuichi wouldn't have waited. Shuuichi wouldn't have agonized over the perfect setting. He'd have heard the news that the bill had been signed, and said, let's go pick out rings. Still...

"I hope you're right."

"If you need the reassurance, just ask him. He won't lie." Hiro sighed and stared at his oblivious friend for several more minutes, than asked, without looking up: "Do you mind?"

Somehow, Eiri knew what he was asking. "Of course not."

"Love you, buddy," Hiro whispered and leaned to kiss Shuuichi again, lightly, on the lips. "Be happy." He rose reluctantly to his feet and put his hand on Eiri's shoulder. "You, too, Eiri."

He nodded, unable to meet Hiro's gently accepting eyes, yet more grateful than ever before for Hiro's essential goodness. He listened to the soft sounds as Hiro went up the stairs to the main floor, the slight scuff as he slid on his shoes, the beeps as he set the alarm before leaving.

Hiro, like Yushu, who climbed out from under the couch to join them, now the guests were gone, was a reliable constant, would _be_ a constant. Forever.

Forever.

He stared out the vast windows of this glass-walled room that looked out across Tokyo Bay. They were lucky, he and Shu, to be able to afford such a dwelling. Every room had a spectacular view. He'd known, the moment he'd walked into the finished product, that every decision they'd made had been right.

He could imagine living here. Forever. Growing old here...

He stroked the pink hair, caressed the soft lips with his fingertips, smiled as the central finger got sucked into the greedy little mouth.

...with this man.

✴✴✴

Shuuichi yawned. The Pocky stick in his mouth tried to wiggle free and he sucked it back in, finding not essence of strawberry, but essence of Yuki.

Ever so much better.

He suckled the finger, moving lazily to its neighbors while letting his own hand, which had been tucked to his chest, wander the contours of his hard, lumpy pillow, realizing, as the sleepy haze dissipated:

"'S quiet."

"Your snoring ran our guests off." Eiri's voice drifted over his head.

"Didn't."

"Then how do you explain that we're all alone?"

Knowing full well their friends had left out of courtesy to the newly engaged and reunited couple, Shuuichi countered:

"Easy. Two words: snarky Yuki."

"Oh. Scared them off, did I?"

"Mmm-hmm." He explored some more, his rough fingernails catching a bit in the smooth fabric, tracing the folds, the hard muscle and bony knees beneath, reveling in the long-fingered touch echoing his own along his bare arm. Not seductively, either of them. Just...hungrily. "Can't say I'm sorry."

"You seem pretty tired."

"Better now." He rolled up to curl against Yuki's side, pulling Yushu into his lap, staring out across that beautiful view. "I've missed this."

Eiri's arm tightened around his shoulders, and Eiri's other hand caught his chin, urging his face around and up to meet his kiss. A timeless moment later, his beautiful fiancé murmured against his lips: "So have I."

He couldn't help giggling. "I was _talking _about the view." Though he couldn't deny he'd missed the kissing, too.

Eiri drew back, just enough to meet his eyes. "So was I."

Shuuichi felt the heat rush to his face at the look in those golden eyes, the look that said he was the most beautiful creature on the planet. Only Yuki could make him believe that he was anything other than a skinny, funny-looking fellow with a gift for making people laugh.

Those stupid post-tour tears that hovered just below the surface threatened. He tried to fight them back.

"It's okay, Shu."

Eiri leaned close to kiss the tears, stopping them before they fell. Yuki told him, every time, to ignore them, that the tears as well as the doubts were all an overload of chemicals in his brain, that his body's janitorial crew just hadn't been getting enough time to wash his brain out at night and it was just...garbage that would go away with a few nights' sleep.

And lots of fucking. He wasn't sure about that part of the cure, but he sure liked the theory.

"How did I get so lucky?" he whispered to the room at large, knowing there was no answer, even as he wished he could believe he truly deserved such happiness.

Eiri's hold tightened.

"I was just about to ask the same." Eiri's voice drifted above his head.

He sighed, thinking about something his mother had said about her and Dad. "Parallel thoughts. Just like an old married couple."

"Just like." Eiri murmured and lifted Shuuichi's left hand to kiss the ring.

Shuuichi sighed again, cuddling deeper into that welcoming hold, turning his hand to admire his priceless new treasure.

Alexandrite, a mysterious, changeable stone Eiri had introduced him to after he got his ear pierced last year, with sapphire and ruby chips to accent the colors hidden within the primary stone. Unique. Beautiful. Just like his fiancé.

"Would you rather have had diamonds?" Eiri asked, sounding worried.

"Never." He kissed the ring and tucked the hand into Eiri's. "It's perfect."

"Shu, I..."

He waited, but the question seemed stuck in Yuki's throat. "Yeah?"

"Are you...disappointed?"

Shuuichi tipped his head in silent question. Disappointed? How could he possibly be disappointed?

"I should have asked in private. Just you and me, but—"

Understanding dawned. Shuuichi shut him up with a kiss. "At first...maybe, yes. But only for a second. It was perfect, just like the ring. Like you said, _they_ made it possible. They deserved to be part of it and I..." He asked his conscience and decided it was really true: "Yes, I loved sharing it with them." He crawled into Eiri's lap, straddling Eiri's legs to face him, giggling and wiggling when he felt Eiri's instant response beneath him, but sobering quickly. "I'm...greedy, Eiri." he admitted. "I'd like to have it both ways. Public and private. I'd like to be surprised all over again, right here, in our house, with only Yushu as a witness, but if I could only have one, that was the right one." He giggled again. "And not just because I liked seeing you on your knees."

Long fingers traced his mouth.

"How'd I get so lucky?" Eiri asked huskily.

Shuuichi just leaned for another kiss, his mind drifting contentedly on the sensation of flesh on flesh and the rhythm of the familiar dance of tongues. Beneath him, Eiri's arousal grew increasingly insistent and he knew that one way or another that urge would be appeased before the night was through.

And he couldn't think of a better way to fall asleep than with—

"Shu?"

"Hmmm...?"

"Room?"

"Mmmm..."

He wrapped around Eiri as his lover heaved them off the couch. The touch of mouth on mouth never faltered as they made their way into the bedroom that was the other half of this lower floor.

The house was built on a stony cliffside. Below them was nothing but trees and wildlife and Tokyo Bay. They could do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, and as long as there wasn't a helicopter hanging outside their window, no one would ever see.

Without breaking the kiss, Yuki sat down on the bed, twisting to put Shuuichi down beside him.

Then, against his lips: "Got another present for you."

"But—"

"No buts. And I've been planning this even longer than the proposal, so you can't object, got it?"

"But I've got nothing for you. I asked Hiro, and he said the fifth anniversary was wood, and I thought he was kidding, because, I mean, who would want a chunk of wood? but then, I looked it up on the internet and it was, so I thought it would be funny if I just _gave_ you a woodie, and that that would be enough, but then you gave me the ring and proposed and—"

Lips stopped his babbling, thrusting the rising guilt away.

"I'm going to hold you to that, brat, but first—" He leaned across Shuuichi to pull something out of the bedside table drawer. It was wrapped in sparkly yellow paper and decorated with two strawberry Pocky sticks and a perfect Peace Rose.

"It's...beautiful," Shuuichi whispered, touching the rose.

"Going to open it?"

"Yeah." He eased the ribbon off, sniffing the rose before setting it carefully aside. He'd get it dried and encased with the one Eiri had left him before going into rehab. Yuki appropriated the Pocky and began feeding it to him a nibble at a time.

Which distraction delayed the unwrapping for several minutes. When the Pocky was gone, Eiri said, "Well?"

Shuuchi exchanged a final strawberry-flavored kiss and picked the package up off the floor, feeling guilty for not taking better care of his gift. Eiri pulled him onto his lap, arms around his waist, putting his chin on Shuuichi's shoulder to watch.

He folded the paper back to find...a book. A book bound in plain black leather with a title stamped in gold foil on the cover:

_All the Answers  
__by Uesugi Eiri_

He twisted to look up at Eiri, puzzled, and Eiri, with a smile, reached to open the book to the dedication page. There, in Yuki's flawless handwriting, it said:

_For my Shu-chan,  
_✴  
_If it's not in here, ask,  
__I'll never say no.  
__I promise.  
_✴  
_Yours forever,  
__Eiri_

He stared at the dedication and again at the book, proper bound and beautiful. Complete with pictures. Photos of Eiri as a child. Photos of Eiri and his family. Photos of teenage Eiri looking very punkish and nasty, including police mug-shots. Photos of Eiri on tour. Photos of Eiri and...him. Photos he didn't know how Eiri could have gotten, some of which made him blush even as he couldn't look away, and on the last page, The photo, the one of him and Eiri on their first date.

"It's all there, Shu," Eiri whispered softly. "It's one of a kind. Written just for you."

The one thing he'd ever really asked for: to know all about the man he loved.

He sought the perfect response and came up with...nothing. Once again, Eiri managed to give him...everything he could possibly want. A public proposal for those dedicated fans; a private commitment like no other.

How _did_ he get so lucky?

He closed the book and hugged it, hard, to his chest, full to overflowing, the tears refusing now to be denied.

Eiri arms closed around him, rocking him gently.

"Forever, Shu-chan," came a whisper in his ear. "Forever."

Fin.

✴✴✴ ✴✴✴ ✴✴✴

A/N: To be honest, I didn't know this part existed. I wrote the majority of "Forever" long before I ever found fanfiction. Most of Yushu was written at the same time. Then, the core of Yushu, Eiri's therapy happened, and the book for Shu happened, and then Eiri set himself that deadline in the epilogue of Yushu, and suddenly, as I was posting "Forever" I realized there was an epilogue to the fifth anniversary proposal as well. Hence...this chapter.

Hope y'all like it. _Please_, R&R.


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